Giacomo Abrusci
This concept is nothing new, but it is high time we officially normalize it. Years ago in the early 2000s, during a brown bag session at Conservation International, I overheard a comment that caught my attention. These lunchtime sessions, where colleagues shared their work informally, were typically casual, and I was only half-listening. But between daydreams, heard someone refer to seafood as wildlife, and that single word choice jolted me. Like most people, I had until that point, always viewed seafood as a commodity- something extracted from the ocean, inherently abundant and endlessly available. But that comment nudged me to consider a different perspective. History, society and profit margins have unintentionally conditioned us to overlook the ocean’s inhabitants as wildlife, ignoring the complexity of their ecosystems and the impact of our actions on their survival? Cod, sardines, and tuna, in the eyes of the consumer, went the same way as iron, coal, and timber- resources to be extracted, rather than wildlife to be preserved.
In many ways, this shift in perspective is similar to other changes already happening in the conservation community. Across various groups and discussions, conservationists have gradually stopped referring to “the world’s oceans” and instead talk about “the ocean. You might not have even noticed that in 2009, World Oceans Day quietly changed to World Ocean Day to emphasize the interconnectedness of the global ocean system. This small word choice carries a profound message: though there are distinct oceans on a map, the ocean is one interconnected system, affected by the same global issues. By thinking of it as a singular entity, we start to appreciate that the health of one region affects the whole. As the terminology slowly makes its way mainstream, so does a changed perspective. Similarly, if we make the move to normalize seafood as wildlife, we could foster a deeper respect for marine life and influence the way we conserve and protect it.
To understand why this reframing matters, we need to start with definitions. Traditionally, wildlife refers to undomesticated animals that live in their natural habitats- wolves, bears, tigers, and so on. Ask your neighbor to name three examples of wildlife and I’ll bet you a dollar they answer one of those animals. These species symbolize the untamed world, and we have long rallied to protect them through legislation and public campaigns. Chickens and cows, however, penned in farms and served at the dinner table, are far from appearing in a NATURE documentary. Seafood, though caught in the wild, is defined as fish and shellfish intended for human consumption. This label places marine animals in a different category, often viewed through the lens of supply and demand rather than conservation.
This distinction may seem arbitrary, but it’s significant. We don’t refer to other wild animals primarily by their culinary potential; no one talks about tigers, wolves, or eagles as “landfood.” So why do we treat fish, shrimp, and octopus as consumables rather than as integral components of their ecosystems? This divide is likely rooted in our perception of abundance. Marine mammals, like seals or orcas, are typically seen as wildlife, worthy of conservation efforts. But tuna, salmon, grouper, and shrimp are abundant in our minds- a seemingly endless resource for the taking. Yet, these species are no less wild, no less integral to ocean ecosystems, than the iconic animals we associate with wilderness on land.
Rethinking seafood as wildlife isn’t about changing minds about what people should or shouldn’t eat. Rather, it’s about broadening the conversation and examining our assumptions. I Knowledge is power, and consumers, policymakers, and conservationists alike benefit from a fuller understanding of what’s at stake. If we began to see tuna as the ocean’s equivalent of wolves or grouper as akin to grizzly bears, would the general consumer approach marine conservation differently? Would we be more open to supporting robust marine protected areas and sustainable fishing practices?
Many people are uneasy about consuming animals that society has deemed precious or emblematic of the wild. For example, eating a bald eagle would be unthinkable to most, and using bear bile for medicinal purposes is widely controversial. If people were to view fish in the same light, as fellow creatures of the wild, it might lead to a shift in choices, both in consumption and in conservation. Similarly, if people who shudder at the thought of eating a wild cat were to view grouper or octopus through the same lens, they might pause and reconsider.
This is nothing impossible- we’ve been here before. For centuries, whale blubber was treated purely as a commodity, fueling the lamps of homes across the globe and powering the engines of a growing industrial society. The oil derived from this blubber, extracted from the thick layers of fat beneath a whale’s skin, became so prized that entire species of whales were driven to the brink of extinction. Whaling fleets scoured the oceans in search of this valuable resource, killing thousands upon thousands of whales to meet the relentless demand for oil to light streets, lubricate machinery, and even make soap and cosmetics. However, as society progressed and came to understand whales not as resources but as intelligent, social, and majestic creatures- integral to marine ecosystems and deserving of respect- a profound shift took place. Whales were no longer seen as fuel or raw material but as wildlife, invaluable for their role in the natural world. With this change in perspective, whaling was banned in many parts of the world, and new laws protected these animals, fostering a global effort to restore whale populations. Today, not even the most nostalgic person would consider lighting a whale oil lamp for tradition’s sake, and this evolution in understanding reflects how our values can shift dramatically once we recognize that some things should be preserved, not consumed.
The science of conservation underscores that the ocean is in crisis. Overfishing, pollution, climate change, and habitat destruction are devastating marine biodiversity. But because fish and shellfish are seen as commodities rather than part of our wildlife heritage, conservation policies often fall short of what’s needed. When land animals face population declines, we often act swiftly to protect them. Extending that same concern to marine life could have a transformative impact on conservation policy. Normalizing fish as wildlife would allow us to view marine protected areas not merely as regulatory zones but as havens for vital, wild creatures.
This rebrand could also lend new weight to the concept of marine protected areas. Terrestrial protected areas serve to conserve wildlife in part by creating spaces where they can live free from exploitation. When fish and other marine animals are seen as wildlife, it becomes easier to advocate for similar protections in the ocean. The debate then shifts from simply regulating a food source to preserving an essential part of the natural world.
Suggesting that we normalize seafood as wildlife doesn’t mean launching a campaign or advocating for dietary changes. Instead, it’s a quiet nudge, a subtle reframing that could reshape the conversation over time. Small shifts in language can have lasting impacts on how we think, act, and legislate. This isn’t about making moral judgments on what people eat; it’s about helping people see the ocean’s creatures with fresh eyes, as part of our shared wildlife heritage.
Just as our colleagues in conservation have redefined the “ocean” as one interconnected system, we can slowly see the impacts of our language ripple across the globe. Perhaps by collectively and consistently recognizing fish, shellfish, and marine life as wildlife, we can help foster a more unified approach to ocean conservation- one that sees marine life not as commodities to be taken but as wild species to be protected, respected, and preserved. After all, reframing how we talk about the ocean and its inhabitants may be one of the simplest, most powerful conservation tools we have.